


Too beautiful for your own good

by WinterRose527



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Modern AU, Past Myrcella Baratheon/Robb Stark, angst angst angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRose527/pseuds/WinterRose527
Summary: Too beautiful for your own good.She’d been hearing it her whole life. That her beauty was a curse. That it could crumble nations. That it would be her downfall.There was nothing worse than a fulfilled prophesy.





	1. Chapter 1

 

_Too beautiful for your own good. Too beautiful for your own good._

She’d been hearing it her whole life. That her beauty was a curse. That it could crumble nations. That it would be her downfall.

 

There was nothing worse than a fulfilled prophesy.

 

Her beauty was also a weapon. She could wield it like a sword when she wanted to, like she did tonight.

 

It was how she’d slipped past the bouncer with nothing more than a smile, though she was three years too young to be in this club. It was how she’d gotten more than her fair share of drinks, the bartenders happy to keep her in steady supply. _Nothing like a pretty girl drinking whiskey,_ he’d said. She’d wanted to smash her glass and plunge it into his throat but she’d merely grimaced, passing it off for a smile and he’d poured her another.

 

It was how she’d found herself in the middle of a dance floor, pack flushed with writhing bodies all too happy to dance too closely. It didn’t matter if they were a boy or girl, they all seemed hell bent on making her forget, though they weren’t exactly sure what, and she was all too willing to let them try.

 

There was one with the coldest eyes she’d ever seen who gripped her harshly. She didn’t feel anything these days but she knew that. So she clung to him, dancing too close, shimmying in a way that she would have blanched at a year ago.

 

It was a rule of hers now: If the Ella Baratheon Robb Stark loved wouldn’t have done it, that’s what she’d do.

 

She lost herself in the music and the whiskey in her blood and the rough hands groping her body.

 

Suddenly the hands disappeared, nearly tearing her dress on their way off her body. She didn’t turn around. The old Ella would have done that. Turned around, seen how she could help, seen what was the matter. So now she faced forward, closing her eyes, and continued to dance as though he’d never been there at all. Maybe he hadn’t.

 

It isn’t long before she’s hoisted over someone’s shoulder as she was carried through the club. He set her down roughly, and she couldn’t look in his eyes. She missed the cold eyes of the cruel stranger, they were so much safer than the ones that stared at her now.

 

“Where’s your coat, Ella? I’m taking you home,” Jon Snow said to her.

 

“I don’t have one,” she said stubbornly.

 

“It’s frigid out there!” he growled at her.

 

“What is that to me?” she asked him.

 

He rubbed a hand down his handsome face and shrugged out of his own coat holding it out to her. When she made no move to take it he sighed and took her arm roughly, shoving it through the sleeves before repeating the action. He zipped her up, pulling the hood over her.

 

“Let’s go Ella,” he said, and she could tell his patience was wearing thin. _Good, maybe he’ll leave me alone._

“I’m not ready to leave,” she said.

 

“Walk or so help me god I will throw you over my shoulder again,” he growled at her. _Oh he’s angry, now we’re getting somewhere._

She walked forward as though it meant nothing to her either way, and honestly it didn’t. What did she care if he felt like carrying her?

 

Once they’d gotten outside he went to hail a cab, and while he was gone a young guy approached her.

 

“Leaving so soon, beautiful?” he asked her. _Too beautiful for your own good._

Ella just looked at him and smirked. She didn’t need to say anything. In fact, they liked her more than she didn’t.

 

“Not with _him_?” the guy said gesturing to Jon whose back was still turned, “Oh no no no, if you’re leaving now it should be with me.”

 

_You would have made the old Ella laugh at you. You’ll do very nicely._

She smirked again and tilted her head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. He got bolder then, moving towards her, so close he could touch her. He looked like he wouldn’t know what he was doing. No matter, she wouldn’t feel it if he did anyway.

 

Jon turned then, apparently having found a cab and growled. “Walk away, dipshit.”

 

“I don’t think your girl wants me to,” he said cockily and Ella smiled at him. Not even flirtatiously, but he was dumb enough to think it was.

 

“Trust me _you_ want to,” Jon said, getting in his face.

 

She was bored of this. She’d seen it all before. They always thought they could take him. They couldn’t. So without a glance at either of them she walked over to the waiting cab and slid in. He slid in after her, hurrying as though afraid she’d leave without him. She wouldn’t have, she had nowhere to go.

 

“4th and Main,” Jon said crisply to the cab driver.

 

Ella stared straight ahead. She wishes she had drank a little more. Her vision was still too precise, which meant her mind was as well.

 

“You’ve got to stop this,” Jon said sternly.

 

“You’ve got to stop this,” she said pointedly.

 

“I can’t,” Jon said.

 

“Neither can I,” she said.

 

“Robb wouldn’t want-“

 

“Robb doesn’t want anything from me. Not anymore.”

 

“Fuck Ella! You’ve got to stop, do you hear me? This would _kill_ him,” he says and then blanches at his own poor choice of words.

 

“No fear there. I already did that,” she says stoically.

 

_Too beautiful for your own good._

He stares at her, his mouth opening and closing as though he wants to say something, protest, but he doesn’t. _Good, maybe he’ll finally admit it._

They ride in silence to his apartment. It’s a new one, he moved out of the apartment he’d shared with Robb shortly after the funeral. He couldn’t bear to live there, his best friend permeating every inch of their home.

 

It’s big and clean and minimalistic just like him, at the top of one of the new skyscrapers. There is a long wall of windows. She steps forward, looking out. To someone else she probably looked as though she was looking at the view. She wasn’t, she was looking at the glass. How many inches was it? Two, maybe three? What would it take?

 

Jon wanders into his kitchen and moments later she smells bacon. _Fool_.

 

“Ella,” he calls.

 

There are other sounds too, scratching at the door, howling. It is the first thing she feels in months. She goes to his stereo and turns on a blaring rock song to cover it. She doesn’t want to feel.

 

He comes in when he hears it, a plate of eggs and bacon in his hand. He sets it down on the table and pulls out a chair, “Sit.”

 

Though it was impossible, she still heard the scratching on the door.

 

“I’m not hungry,” she says truthfully.

 

“You’re starving,” Jon says and she scoffs at him. He walks over to her angrily tugging off the jacket. “I’m not saying it to be clever,” he says, yanking her by the arms towards him, “I’m saying it because you are _starving to death_ , fuck Ella I can feel the grains of your bones.”

 

“Stop being dramatic,” she spat out at him.

 

“Eat, or I will take you to the hospital where they will shove tubes in you and feed you that way. It makes no difference to me.” _He’d do it too._

She sat down and took a bite of eggs, the bacon looking far too rich for her long empty stomach.

 

“More,” he said, but his voice was softer now. He’d changed the music, keeping the volume loud enough to drown everything else out, but it was no longer angry and animalistic.

 

She took another bite, and another. When she had finished the eggs she pushed the plate away.

 

“Satisfied?” she asked him brattily.

 

“Not _nearly_ ,” he growled at her and lunged at her.

 

His lips on hers were like fire and he seemed to want to consume her whole. She held onto him tightly, chuckling against him. Because he had fought it. Had probably told himself he was just going to protect her this time. Just make her eat something. Then he’d sleep on the couch.

 

Not a chance. Neither of them slept at all anymore.

 

He was hovering over her where she sat and she wrapped her legs around his waist before his hands came around her waist, picking her up and taking her to the guest bedroom. They never went to his bedroom. That would be too real.

 

She bit his neck and he ripped her dress clean apart. She knew he hadn’t liked it, he thought he was clever by destroying it. She’d just buy another.

 

He threw her on the bed and tore off his own shirt, unbuckling his jeans and shoving them down. He stopped then, making no move towards her. He was hard already and she stared at him, reaching into her own panties and starting to rub herself.

 

He let out a whimper, as though he could still stop it even now. She wouldn’t let him. She’d use her weapon if need be. Because he had started this and he was sure as hell going to finish it.

 

“Rip them” she says.

 

“Why?” he asks her.

 

“Because you want to.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“I do. You want to destroy the evidence. So rip them and fuck me.”

 

He shoved down his boxers and crawled on the bed over her. He ripped them off of her and pulled her thighs apart, shoving into her in one thrust. The pace he set was punishing, which was fine by her and she met him thrust for thrust.

 

“ _Ella_ ,” he groaned. “You drive me _fucking_ crazy.”

 

“Punish me then,” she pleads. She needed it, needed his harshness and his anger, it fed her own and he always denied her.

 

“Is that you want?” he asks her, his hand on her throat. Her eyes meet his and his grip tightens, “Answer me.”

 

“Yes,” she said, not breaking eye contact. He had to know that she meant it.

 

“You asked for it,” he said and suddenly the hand on her throat became a caress to her cheek. His pace slowed, and he was rocking into her slowly, rolling his hips so he brushed past that sensitive spot with every thrust.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

 

“Punishing you,” Jon said, pressing kisses to her forehead and her cheeks and her nose. “I could choke you and spank you and fuck you within an inch of your life, Ella. But that wouldn’t be a punishment, that would be a reward. So I’m going to take you like this, the way I want to, the way you _deserve_ to be handled.”

 

_No, no, no this is all wrong._

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot of skin behind her ear.

 

 _“Jon_ ” she cried, because it wasn’t fair.

 

“Oh I recognize that voice,” he said, one of his hands taking her hand in his and raising it above her, interlacing his finger with hers, “If I keep this up, you’ll make me dance with you in the kitchen tomorrow morning,” he said stroking his hand through her hair, cupping her head, he leaned in and kissed her lips, teasing them open slowly. This was wrong, so wrong, and she felt it like fire in her veins. He kissed her again and pulled away, “A few more kisses like that and you’ll be begging me to read to you.”

 

“Stop, please,” she begged, “Don’t make me…”

 

He stopped then, because Jon Snow had been raised right. When a girl said no you stopped. Without question or hesitation.

 

“Come back to me, Ella,” he pleaded with her, his forehead falling against hers, “Doe…”

 

“Don’t call me that,” she said, ice in her tone.

 

“Why?” he asked her, as though he meant it. “Tell me why, Ella. Tell me everything you think you know and I’ll tell you what I know I know.”

 

“Stop it, Jon. You can’t _fix_ me. Ella Baratheon, your Doe, isn’t broken. She’s gone. I may as well have been _buried with him_ ,” she says pushing him off of her and getting off the bed.

 

“Is that so?” he asked her, getting off the bed and following her. “Maybe you’re right, because the Ella Baratheon I knew wasn’t a _coward_.”

 

She slapped him so hard the sound rang in her ears.

 

He laughed at her, “There she is…”

 

“What do you want me to say exactly?” she asks him, because at this point he had succeeded in annoying her. A feat.

 

“I want you to tell me how you killed him,” Jon growls at her.

 

FLASHBACK

 

_“Stay here, Ella,” he said to her._

_“Robb, no! Don’t leave me please,” she said, trying to grab him to her, but she was so weak, too bruised._

_“You’re alright Doe, I promise. Jon’s with you, he’s not going to let anything happen to you” he said, grabbing her face as softly as he could, “No one will ever hurt you again, do you hear me?”_

_“Robb –“ she cried again._

_“I love you, Doe. Just be strong a little while longer, I’ll be back.”_

_But he never was._

PRESENT DAY

 

“I… I can’t…” she says, feeling weak. Weaker than she had in months. “I’m tired Jon, I’m so tired.”

 

He caught her as she nearly fell, “Okay, Ella, okay, alright? We’ll talk again in the morning. Just come to bed, okay? I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

 

“No, not in here- I…” she backs away, picking his shirt up off the floor and pulling it over her head. She wanders out of the guest bedroom and heads down the hall, to the room she’d never been in.

 

“Ella no! Don’t go in there!” he cried but it was too late. She had already opened the door. There, where they had been fighting, scratching, howling to get to her, were two bloodhounds.

 

She looked at the one with the darker markings and it was the last nail in her coffin. She sank to the ground in front of him. He didn’t pounce on her, like he would have months ago. He sits there and waits for her to come to him and take his face in her hands.

 

It feels strange to cry. She hadn’t in so long.

 

“I’m sorry, boy,” she says, petting his face. He looks up at her with his sad eyes, “I’m so sorry. I stole him, I stole your daddy and then I left you. I’m so sorry I stayed away. I’m so sorry Grey Wind,” she said, her body racked with sobs now as she rested her head against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He rests his head over her shoulder and all but hugs her back. That was the thing about him, he had sold his soul to her long time ago and no amount of bad behavior on her part would give it back to him.

 

She sobs into his steadiness until mercifully sleep takes her. She doesn’t know that Jon sits outside of his own bedroom all night long in a quiet vigil. All she knows is that she leans on Grey Wind as Ghost covers her body with his own and that is enough to keep the demons at bay.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a creak in his neck when he woke and every part of his body hurt. He was still seated upright, his legs extending across the hallway where he sat outside his bedroom door. He stood up slowly, feeling much older than his 20 years as he did.

 

He rose and peeked inside, hoping Ella had made her way to the bed at some point. The bedroom though, was empty.

 

He raced to the kitchen, and the sight he saw brought tears to his eyes. There, at his stove, still wearing his shirt from the night before, was Ella Baratheon making pancakes. He approached her slowly, not wanting to spook her, but Ghost and Grey Wind saw him and rose protectively in front of her, they didn’t like what he’d been doing to her for the past few months. It was just as well, he didn’t either.

 

She turned and looked at him as though he might attack her. It killed him that he frightened her. “I don’t want to dance,” she blurted out.

 

He couldn’t help it, he _laughed_. He hadn’t laughed in months. She scowled at him, and that brought more joy to him than anything he could remember. Because it meant she felt something enough to be annoyed with him.

 

“We don’t have to dance,” he said and tip toed as though trying to be very sneaky, “I’m just going to tuuurn on the raaadio and we’ll just um… well we’ll just _see_ what happens, hmm?”

 

She looked at him warily. The old Ella would have giggled at his antics, called him a fool, but she just looked at him now, a small smile threatening her lips. She treated the smile like it was a foreign invasion, as though it would take everything she held dear. _She’s holding onto her hollowness like it could save her life. Maybe it has._

He turned to a station that played oldies and the familiar sounds of Sam Cooke filled the kitchen. He sat on the counter next to where she was working and studied her face.

 

She really was shockingly beautiful, though he could never tell her that now. She hated her beauty, had even before Robb. She could use it for her advantage, and had many times before, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

 

But at this moment he wasn’t looking at her bow lips or wide green eyes, he was looking at her golden head. He was waiting for it, knew it would be coming any second. He nearly cheered when he did, the familiar bob, singing the song in her head.

 

She went to the fridge, and it was subtle, but there was a sway to her hips. He popped a blueberry in his mouth and tried to just be happy. Happy that his best friend in the world was dancing, however reservedly, in his kitchen on a Sunday morning, safe and not in the arms of one scumbag or another.

 

He tried. He _really_ tried.

 

But he knew what it was like to grab those hips now. He couldn’t count all the ways he’d grabbed her hips. Pulling her to him, always pulling her. Wrenching more often than not.

 

It didn’t help that while his t shirt drowned her tiny form it only just covered her ass and he’d torn her panties last night so he knew there was nothing underneath. She bent over, unashamed, because why would she be when he’d seen and touched every inch of her, to grab the milk.

 

She straightened up and turned and saw him looking at her. Her lips fell into a perfect O. _Fuck she’s beautiful_.

 

Just then one of Ella’s favorites, ‘You really got a hold on me’ came on.

 

He got off the counter and she took a step back, bumping into the fridge, “Jon” she said holding a hand out in front of her.

 

“Yes Ella?” he asked, as though he hadn’t understood her.

 

“I don’t want to dance,” she said, repeating herself. She looked like an animal being hunted. It made him bloodthirsty.

 

“So don’t dance,” he said walking towards her. He took the milk from her hands and set it on the counter. “I’m going to dance though,” he said and pulled her, yet again, to him.

 

He wrapped an arm around her waist. She was so thin that he had to stop himself from hissing when his fingers could rest in the indents of her ribs. He took her other hand in his and started moving to the beat. He had always loved this song too, but he would have danced to nails on a chalkboard if he thought it might bring her back to him.

 

Even when Robb was alive he had never thought of her as his best friend’s girl. He had known Ella her whole life, she was as much his as she was Robb’s and even Robb knew that. They had never been more than friends, or rather they had always been more than friends. Ella was his family. She was his beating heart. But the first time he’d kissed her had been the night of Robb’s funeral.

 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him, looking up at him with her jade green eyes.

 

“How can you ask me that?” he asked her gruffly.

 

“Because you should hate me,” she says without hesitation.

 

_You do me wrong now, my love is strong now._

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says without any either. It wasn’t. He had never thought that. Could never be convinced of it. It could have just as easily been him and god how he wished it was, but it could never be her fault.

 

“I called him,” she said. He whimpered.

 

“Of _course_ you called Robb,” Jon said. He didn’t need the pretense of a dance to hold her now, taking her face in his hands. “Ella… he was going to _rape_ you. Your own brother!”

 

She pushes him away from her and growls, looking like a lioness, beautiful and lethal, “I wish he _had_.”

 

Jon punched the fridge so hard he thought he might have broken his hand but he didn’t even feel it. “Never say that to me again.”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“I _know_ you mean it. Never say it again.”

 

“If I had just let him –“

 

“Just _let_ him? Ella… what do you think we would have done if he _had_? There is no version of this in which we all survive, and Robb was doomed in almost every one of them. You think you would have been able to keep that from him? From me? It was _Robb_. This is _Joffrey’s fault and Robb’s, and mine too, but it is NOT YOURS._ ”

 

“No, no, no stop, please stop,” she says burying her head in her hands like her like her brain might shatter her skull.

 

“No” he growled at her, “I will _never_ stop. Robb could have walked away. Ella, you _begged_ him to. Don’t you remember at the hospital? They found his skin under your fingernails along with Joffrey’s. You scratched and you fought for him to stay and he didn’t listen. He couldn’t see REASON, not with the way we found you. I could have gone instead, by god I wanted to. Then he would be here and you wouldn’t be hanging on for dear life…” he said, breaking off with a cry that sounded more like a howl than anything else.

 

It was something he’d often thought of but never voiced. He had been ahead of Robb, Ella was holding onto Robb too tightly, digging her heels in, she was slowing him down, stronger than any of them knew even at her lowest point. It was Robb who stopped him with a simple word, her name.

 

_Stay with her, no matter what happens. Keep her safe._

Jon would have done it without the promise. Ella was in his bones, he belonged to her, he always had. He no sooner could have left her than he could raise Robb from the grave.

 

It was Jon who pulled her arms off of Robb, who covered her body with his own to stop her from running after him. It was Jon who had killed him. He may not have pulled the trigger but he was to blame all the same.

 

“That’s not true,” she whispered.

 

“Which part?” he asked, though it didn’t matter, it was all true.

 

“If it had been you…” she whispers and looks at him. Her lower lip starts to tremble, and she is shaking her head as though she could force the tears in, making it all the more violent when a sob leaves her, “Don’t say that – I can’t. I can’t think about it. Don’t leave me, please, please don’t even talk about it, Jon please…”

 

“Doe, I’m sorry I didn’t mean – I only meant –“ he says but she cuts him off by pushing him into the chair.

 

“I _know_ what you meant,” she says, now taking his face in her hands, “You think I’d be any less broken if it had been you?” she asks as she straddles him. In spite of himself, he groans. He shouldn’t want her, not now, not when there is so much pain. But he had only ever been with her in pain and now to his horror, it aroused him. He shoves his sweatpants down, picking her up briefly and then impaling her on him. She lets out a cry, “You’re in my blood, Jon. I can’t survive without you,” she says as he starts moving her on him. They are kissing furiously, hell bent on invading one another, staking claim, losing themselves.

 

“I’ll _never_ leave you,” he says against her hair. His rocks her hips, bunching his shirt in his hands where it had ridden up her thighs. “I will _never_ leave you.”

 

He doesn’t have to say _Like he did_. Because at the end of it all wasn’t that the point? Robb had wanted revenge more than he’d wanted to stay with her. If he had the ability to think about it rationally, he would have made a different choice. But there had been no time. All he had seen, all he knew, is that someone had wanted to hurt Ella and there was no time for anything after that. He had been a hero first and a person second. Jon wouldn’t make the same mistake.

 

“I will _always choose you_ ,” he said and she let out a moan because this was all so wrong. He rolled her on him now, and she felt so good, she felt like home, “Come back to me, Ella. Come back, please. Come back.”

 

She let out a whimper and tucked her head underneath his chin, her arms around his neck as she bucked against him, “Stay with me, stay with me.”

 

“Always,” he promised them both. With that he thrust up into her, losing himself and bringing her with him.

 

***

 

They hadn’t had sex since that day when it had all come out. They had retreated back into their old roles, they were best friends and nothing more. In action at least, if not in thought.

 

She had moved into his apartment that same afternoon though. One trip to her parent’s house had gotten them everything she wanted to keep, Ser Pounce most importantly and she hadn’t been back since. That had been three weeks ago.

 

“Well _this_ is quite a crew,” Jon said with his crinkly eyed smile, the one he was using more and more often now, as he walked in the room.

 

Ella looked up at him and gave him something resembling a smile. She was on the big sectional couch with Grey Wind and Ghost on either side of her, Ser Pounce on her lap, in a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt of his.

 

It was a Saturday night and she was in and that was enough to make her something close to happy. At the very least relieved. She hadn’t worn heels in weeks and had only drank a few times when Jon had opened a bottle of wine with dinner. It was warm in the apartment and she had music on, something soft and instrumental, no longer wanting to hide the content hums of Ghost and Grey Wind.

 

“Are you staying in?” she asked him, gesturing to his sweatpants and t shirt. _Are you staying with me?_

“Definitely,” he said. _Always._

With that she patted the small spot of couch next to her that Ghost wasn’t occupying and he walked over, clearing his throat and shoved a grumbling Ghost gently further down the couch. He settled into the corner, propping his feet up on the coffee table and hooked an arm across her chest pulling her to him.

 

They stayed like that for a while, she petting Ser Pounce’s fur, he stroking her hair.

 

“Jon?” she asked him, her cheek falling to his chest and breathing in his smell. Laundry detergent and pine and peppermint.

 

“Yeah Doe?” he asked. She hadn’t told him not to call her that, it felt wrong now when he was doing so much, so even though it felt like a knife scraping her heart she didn’t mention it.

 

“Will you read to me?” she asked him quietly.

 

_A few more kisses like that and you’ll be begging me to read to you._

The memory hung between them but he cleared his throat and said, “Give it here,” gesturing to her book.

 

He began to read. She had always loved when he read to her. His voice had a measured quality to it, but she could always tell when he loved what he was reading, or when he knew she would. He would speed up, desperate to get the words out, like one big exclamation point.

 

_“My great miseries in the world have been Heathcliff’s miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: My great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it.”_

He said the words slowly and trailed off.

 

“Keep going,” she said, but still he remained silent. She tilted her head back to look up at him and he looked as though he were frozen in place, “Please.”

 

His face fell to look at her. There was something in his eyes she’d seen many times, but that had remained dormant these past weeks. She turned her body, so she was fully laying across him now, her head on his heart, listening to its erratic thrum. She reached her hand up and let her fingers trail across the space where his shirt met his throat. He swallowed hard and she let a single finger trace his Adam’s apple.

 

“Please” she said again.

 

 _“My love for Linton is like foliage in the woods: time will change it, I’m well aware, as Winter changes the trees…”_ he read on and on.

 

She had always hated using her beauty as a weapon. Never more than with him.

 

***

 

He had gotten about a third of the way through the book when she’d fallen asleep. He’d settled the book on the back of the couch and scooped her up. She was still too light, three weeks of dinners hadn’t changed her body fast enough for him.

 

He brought her to her room, which looked so different than it used to, when it was just the guest room. Even a heartbroken Ella couldn’t abide an undecorated room, so there were billowy drapes in here now and a big puffy comforter, some black and white photographs she’d taken on the walls which he’d hung for her. She had a talent, always had, and the pictures were haunting and beautiful all at once. Just like her.

 

Her hand scrunched his shirt in his fist, defiant even in sleep, and he lowered her to her bed. He removed his shirt from her grasp and covered her in her duvet, pulling it up to her chin. She had a habit of kicking out of the covers now, and he wanted to give her as much coverage as he could in a vain attempt to keep them on her longer.

 

 _“Jon”_ she breathed.

 

“Sleep, Doe,” he said, unable to stop himself from tracing the curve of her face. He sat on the edge of her bed, knowing that wouldn’t be the end of it.

 

“Stay,” she whispered.

 

“Ella I should –“ he started but was stopped by her sleepy green eyes opening.

 

“Do you sleep better without me?” she asked him curiously. She wasn’t fishing, she wanted to know. He knew her decision would be based on his answer. If he said yes, she would never ask him again.

 

“No.” he says truthfully. He rarely slept at all without her.

 

Wordlessly she rolled over, picking up the comforter. He got up and shut off the light and came back to the bed, pulling the covers up. He lay on his back and waited. Before too long she moved closer, her head going to his chest and a leg hitching over his, her arm wrapping around his waist.

 

“Is this okay?” she asked quietly. It was a habit of the new Ella, to ask permission. There was a time not long ago that she would have stood on his head if it struck her fancy and would find a way to make it his fault if he complained. He missed that. Her self-assurance, her confidence that she could do anything and he’d always be there.

 

His hand comes up and strokes her hair. It falls through his fingers like silk. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

 

That was a lie. It wasn’t okay. It was everything but okay. It was perfection. He didn’t know how he’d gone the first twenty years of his life without this, without her in his arms. She had always been affectionate, it was in her nature, but he’d never had access to her body the way he did now. He never knew what it felt like when her freshly shaved legs rubbed against his calves, or that the slope of her nose fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. He never knew what it was to wake up on top of her, her arms and legs holding him to her as though she’d stop him from leaving her even as she slept. It was hell. Because neither of them were supposed to be here at all.

 

***

 

She woke up pinned to the bed. Jon was on top of her, almost entirely, and his head rested on her breast. Both of her legs wrapped around one of his calves and her fingers were in his hair, so she knew she had been the culprit.

 

She craved him, it seemed, even in her sleep and he gave her whatever she wanted, even in his.

 

She starts to run her hands through his rich dark curls, so much softer than any boy’s hair had a right to be. She presses a kiss to his forehead, and another and she feels him stirring. She buries her face in his curls, like he liked to do to her.

 

If he registered where he was or what was happening, he didn’t give any indication. His hand stroked circles on her waist though through his sweatshirt, as he nuzzled against her breast still waking up.

 

She kissed his head again and his forehead as he started kissing her chest and neck, his hands trailing upward.

 

They sought one another’s mouths at the same time and she let out a sigh into his. His fingers traced her cheek and he breathed out, _“Ella”._

She let out a cry, because yes, it was her and he was here with her. She kissed him deeper then. This was the first kiss that wasn’t predominantly pain. It was there, deep and vibrant, but she had woken wanting to kiss him, to hear her name come from his lips just like that.

 

He swallowed her cry, straddling her now, his hands trailing under the sweatshirt so he could grasp her waist in his hands. His fingers went to the hem, but then they heard barking, causing Jon to look up.

 

Ella figured it was someone in the apartment next door and pulled his face back to hers greedily, making him smile against her lips. She felt his hands trail back to the hem and then they heard it.

 

“Jon?” they heard a familiar voice call.

 

“Fucking hell,” Jon mumbled, pushing up off of her and walking out of the bedroom door.

 

“Arya? What are you doing here?” he asked.

 

“You haven’t been answering my calls, I was… I was worried about you,” Arya, Robb’s fearless little sister says.

 

Ella gets out of bed, not sure what to do.

 

“I’m fine, I’ve just been busy…” she hears him say and her heart hurts. He had been ignoring Arya, the girl they both loved, the girl Robb had loved, for her.

 

Ella takes a look at herself in the mirror, checking her face for evidence of sin. She looks decidedly too innocent for a girl who caused so much damage.

 

_I’m so sorry, my love. He makes me brave, he makes me whole, or as near to it as I’ll ever be again. Forgive me, my love._

Robb had asked her to brave, just a little while longer. She could do that, for him. She could be brave.

 

She walks out of the bedroom door to find Jon and Arya talking quietly.

 

“Hi Arya,” Ella says quietly. Jon whips around as though he can’t believe she’s come out and he gives her a heartbreakingly surprised smile. _Yes, I can be brave._

“Ella,” Arya says, her cool grey eyes appraising her. At sixteen she was completely terrifying, her mouth twitching as she stepped towards her.

 

Ella fought the urge to go hide. She hadn’t seen Arya since the funeral, where they’d sat, hands clasped as Jon gave his eulogy. She couldn’t even imagine what was running through her mind.

 

“ _Ella_ ” she says again, but this time there are tears running down her cheeks and the girls cross the room in a hurry, falling together in a mix of limbs and apologies. “We’ve been _so worried_. Oh Ella, Ella, Ella…”

 

***

 

“This is a bad idea,” she said for the fifth time on the car ride over.

 

“It’s dinner,” Jon said, though he wasn’t convinced himself as he drove down the familiar streets. _How can I face them now?_

“That’s like saying World War II was a disagreement,” Ella said, and he could practically hear her eyes rolling.

 

He fought the urge to banter back to her. It was too easy to fall into their old rhythms, and it felt wrong doing it now. Now that they were about to have dinner with Robb’s family, and the only true family either of them had ever known. It wasn’t right to joke with her when he’d woken up in her arms.

 

“You’re the one who agreed to it,” he said petulantly instead.

 

“Like you’re one to talk _Mr_. _Oh what can we bring_?” she pointed out.

 

_Do not flirt with her. Do NOT flirt with her._

“It will be fine,” he said instead, though neither of them believed it.

 

He pulled over at the curb in front of the double-wide townhouse the Stark brood lived in. He got out of the car and went around to Ella’s side to let her out. She wasn’t waiting for him to do so, she was stalling.

 

“Come on, Doe,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her out. She let out a deep breath and he couldn’t resist taking her face in his hands, “It’s you and me. You say we’re out and we’re out.”

 

She nodded and he urged them forwards. No one would think anything about his arm being draped around her so he held her close, needing her as much as she needed him. More, probably.

 

They rang the doorbell, which in itself spoke volumes of how much things had changed and it is Ned who opens the door.

 

“Hey kids,” he says, grimly. Jon hadn’t seen him in weeks, not since Ella moved in, and Ella hadn’t seen him in months he assumed. The weight of that showed on Ned’s face, who didn’t do well when his children were far from him. Regardless of how they’d acted recently, Jon knew that he considered them his children and he was racked with guilt, not just for staying away.

 

“Hi Dad,” Ella said, standing on her tip toes and kissing his cheek. She’d called him that for years, ever since Robb gave her a promise ring when she was 15. It was at Ned’s insistence and he could see him thaw now at hearing it.

 

He shook Jon’s hand and he felt like a traitor as he and Ella stepped through the front door.

 

“Beauty!” Rickon shouted and Ella flinched, causing Jon to tighten his grip on her. But she gave a small smile and stroked the twelve year old’s cheek, “Hi Beast.”

 

“Ella, Jon,” fourteen year old Bran said as he wheeled in.

 

“Hi handsome,” Ella said, and Jon had to fight tears. She always teased that Rickon was the sweetest, Bran the handsomest, and Robb the bravest. Robb was the only one not to find it funny. He wanted to be all of them to her. And he was, _oh how he was._

“You made it…proud of you,” Arya uttered as she strolled in and Ella bit her lip in a smile. It had been a long running joke of theirs, praise for deeply ordinary things. It comforted Jon to know that for Arya at least, family dinner was still ordinary.

 

Just then Catelyn appeared and Ella’s smile died. Jon felt his knees buckle, the way they always did when he saw her, and it was Ella who held him up now, her arm firmer around his waist.

 

“Oh my darlings,” she says coming towards them, she wraps them both in her arms and Jon squeezes her tight, the only mother he’d ever known. “You have no idea what this does for me.”

 

“Ella will you sit next to me?” Rickon asks as Catelyn lets them go.

 

Ella says, “Of course,” but she grabs a hold of Jon’s shirt as she moves, making it perfectly clear that he was to sit on her other side. That was just as well, he had no intentions of doing otherwise.

 

The meal passes in a mixture of laughter and sadness. There is still an empty seat at the table, a seat that would always be empty, but this was Jon’s family. He loved them all dearly and it comforted him to be around them in spite of the guilt he felt in his heart.

 

As dinner ends, Ned rises and says, “Come with me, Ella, I have something I want to show you…”

 

She looks at him and Jon feels his heart tear in two at the faith she has in him. He smiles at her reassuringly and she follows Ned out of the dining room.

 

“Come help me with the dishes, Jon,” Catelyn says.

 

Jon follows her in, bringing a few platters with him. He sets himself up at the sink and turns on the faucet, taking a plate from her hand and beginning to wash.

 

“Thank you for bringing her here,” Catelyn said.

 

“That was all Arya…” Jon said dismissively.

 

“Yes, she told me that Ella’s moved in with you. I’m glad… it’s what…” she starts and he can see tears threatening but she stops herself, “He would have been glad that you two were looking out for each other.”

 

_Maybe, but I bet he wouldn’t be glad that I had fucked the love of his life in every way I can imagine._

“Yeah she um, moved in a few weeks ago. Ghost and Grey Wind are sure happy about it,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.

 

“And you, I’d wager,” she says, looking at him knowingly. He can’t say anything without incriminating himself further, so he only nods. “She’s always loved you,” Catelyn continues, “It is practically one of her defining characteristics. She’s always relied on you, trusted you, and you in turn have always worshipped her. Ever since you were a little boy. I remember you and Robb standing over her crib as toddlers, delighting in her beauty and wonder.”

 

He wasn’t really sure what point she was making, but he shifted uncomfortably all the same.

 

“But it’s different now…” Catelyn says, and when he meets her gaze there is no anger, only pain. “Did you see her fear when Ned asked to speak with her? She was polite and kind at dinner, don’t get me wrong, that’s who she is, but… it’s like she can’t breathe without you.”

 

_And I am no less struggling for breath, standing in front of you right now. I have just gotten used to it._

“She’s my best friend, Cat,” he says instead. “I’m… there’s never going to be a time when her needs are not my first priority, when she is not my first and last thought, when I would not do anything, be anything that she needed if only she will _live_. You have no idea how this affected her.”

 

She could bristle at him, slap him. Ella had lost her boyfriend, sure, Robb had always been more than that to her, but still. Catelyn had lost her son.

 

“I have some idea…” Catelyn said. _Oh right, the papers._ “I don’t blame her for needing you, or you for needing her. I don’t blame her for how she reacted, and I don’t blame you for stopping everything to save her. I don’t blame either of you for any of it. I just… it’s an immense thing, you know. To be someone’s reason for existence.”

 

“I’m hardly that,” Jon scoffed, ignoring the way his heart constricted.

 

“But you are,” she says, stroking his face, “And my dear, what you just described does not sound like best friends at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Jon was quiet on the drive home. It was just as well, she didn’t feel much like talking. Dinner at the Stark’s had been the sweetest kind of torture. She hadn’t realized how much the whole in her heart was from missing _them_ , but even still, with every laugh she half-expected Robb to walk in the room, crinkle his eyes at her and say _Your laugh could bring me back to life, sweet girl._

He had been wrong, it couldn’t. And oh how she had tried tonight.

 

One of Jon’s hands rested in between them. She picked it up, turning it so his palm was facing upwards. She trailed her hands over the familiar callouses. If she had looked anywhere other than his hand she might have seen the way he gripped the steering wheel harshly with the other, but she didn’t. She lifted it up so that she could kiss his knuckles, rubbing her face slowly over the ridges of them.

 

It was odd, this need she felt now. Though they hadn’t kissed until this morning, when they were in one another’s presence they were always touching. He played with her hair while she rested against him as they watched tv. Most nights they sat side by side at the island, forgoing the dining room table as they ate dinner, one side of their bodies pressed firmly against the others. When they did errands, or took the dogs for walks, he always tucked her arm into his elbow, locking her against him. Even tonight at dinner he had grabbed her hand under the table, though if that had been for her or for him she wasn’t quite sure. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure that any of their needs were independent now at all, or if everything served them together.

 

“What did Ned want to show you?” he asked her. The way he’d said it made it seem like he had been wanting to ask ever since they got in the car.

 

Her hand went limp in his and it was him that held her firmly now.

 

“An engagement ring,” she said.

 

They were silent the rest of the way home.

 

***

 

Jon came into the kitchen at 11 that night to get a glass of water. He and Ella hadn’t spoken since they had gotten home, the weight of Robb’s intentions hanging around them.

 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Robb had given Ella a promise ring when she was fifteen years old, of course he would have proposed when she was eighteen. He could imagine it. Ella protesting at first because _What would people think?_ Robb grinning at her and saying _That I’m the luckiest son of a bitch there ever was._ He’d make Ella giggle and press kisses to her cheeks and tell her that there was only ever her, only ever going to be her, so why wait? He’d have her convinced in five minutes flat. She could never deny him anything.

 

Jon would have been the best man. It would have been a small ceremony, and no Baratheons other than Shireen and Gendry would have been in attendance. No Lannisters either. It would have been a fight between Gendry and Ned who got to give her away. It would have ended with Gendry saying _Yeah but now she gets to be your daughter forever_ and Ned would smile and nod, letting the younger man have the honor.

Ella would have insisted on a party afterwards, and though it would be small, just the families and Theon and Jon, it would have gotten a little wild. Ella would have danced with him, he was her best friend after all. He would have held her in his arms and called her his Doe and pretended like his heart wasn’t breaking, but it would have been even if he didn’t understand why. She would have been the most beautiful bride this world had ever seen and she would have stomped on his foot if he told her so.

 

The apartment was deserted, nary an animal in sight, and without thinking he allowed his steps to carry him where they all had gone, to her. He opened the door, not bothering to knock and found her in bed, flanked on either side by Ghost and Grey Wind, Ser Pounce on her chest. She turned to him and smiled and he felt it in his whole body. That this deeply sad, lost girl could smile, just for him.

 

“Make room for Daddy,” she said to Ghost who gave Jon what he assumed to be a scathing look before moving to the foot of the bed.

 

Jon moved over to the bed and lifted the covers, sliding in next to her. She lay on her back, scratching Ser Pounce behind the ears who was purring so loudly the bed was practically vibrating. Jon turned on his side, patting the cat’s soft fur. He didn’t like cats in general, but he loved Ser Pounce, who often acted as though he was just as capable of defending Ella as Ghost or Grey Wind. Ser Pounce rolls onto his side then, offering them both his belly and Ella giggles.

 

“He loves you,” she says quietly.

 

“No he just loves my belly scratches,” Jon says, smiling down at her when she looks up at him and scowls. She was a romantic, always had been, and she loved the idea that her cat would love him because she did.

 

It was easier for her, Jon knew, for her to tell him that Ser Pounce loved him. Ser Pounce after all, was a cat. He didn’t know about things like shame and guilt, but Ella did. There had never been a blow that Jon hadn’t wanted to soften for her, before this one.

 

Jon stopped rubbing Ser Pounce’s belly and let his hand go under the covers, across Ella’s middle, pulling her, _always pulling her_ , towards him.

 

“I’ve been looking for this,” he says quietly, referring to the shirt she wore. She always seemed to wear an article of his when she was sleeping and he would move his whole wardrobe in here if it’s what she wanted.

 

“Do you want it back?” she asked him, her green eyes staring into his. He felt himself harden immediately, especially when his hand trailed down her to find her legs bare.

 

“Not yet,” he whispered and she nodded. He moved Ser Pounce off her though, because as much as he loved that cat, he was in Jon’s way.

He moved his hand back up her body, until it was cupping her face and he let his thumb fall to stroke the line of her cheekbone. He had never gotten to take his time with her. It had always been too rushed, too frantic, to full of pain. He had grabbed her so often and so harshly that he had never heard the little sigh that would escape her when he stroked her bottom lip with his thumb.

 

She stared up at him, her eyes searching every inch of his face and it was such a distinct privilege to be looked at by her the way she was. She was looking at him like he was her entire world, the way he’d been looking at her for months, if not years.

 

He bent down to kiss her, taking her soft lips in his and worshipping her the way he wanted to. Her hand wove into his hair and she turned on her side, kissing him back with equal reverence. He picked her up and rolled them so she was on top of him, and her freshly shaven legs slid across his and her hair fell around them like a golden curtain.

 

She kissed him like she was discovering him, and he kissed her like he’d always known.

 

He could have lifted his shirt off her, tugging her panties off of her, rolling them over so she was naked and glorious before him. He could have tasted her sweet cunt and could have lost himself inside of her. But he didn’t.

 

Instead they kissed for hours, until they started talking, their lips still touching. When her eyes started drooping he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her so she was his prisoner, and she tucked her head under his, the slope of her nose finding the curve of his neck and they’d fallen into a deeper sleep than either had known in months.

 

***

 

Ella woke up in the grey light of the morning, tucked firmly under Jon’s chin, his arms wrapped around her. She looked up at him, _he’s so beautiful_. She didn’t want to wake him, she knew he hadn’t been sleeping these past months, just like she hadn’t, so she eased herself out of his grip as quietly as she could, which wasn’t easy at all because he was _strong_.

 

She went to her wardrobe and pulled out a sports bra and underwear, workout pants and a tank top. Knowing Jon was still asleep, she didn’t bother leaving the room, _not that there is any part of you he hasn’t seen_. She lifted his shirt off of her, missing the soft comforting fabric immediately.

 

“ _Ella_ ” he said gruffly. _Of course, he’d never look at me without my permission._

She turns to him as though nothing as amiss, as though it is perfectly natural that the man who had been her best friend her whole life would see her naked.

 

“Good morning,” she says, trying for nonchalance.

 

“An understatement,” he says. It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that she can’t help but giggle.

 

She pulls on her underwear and her sports bra, hopping into her workout pants a little less gracefully than she’d like and pulled on the tank top. She grabbed a pair of socks out and then walked back over to the bed, perching beside him.

 

“Did you sleep well?” she asks him, her thumb stroking the dark circles under his eyes that seem to have faded slightly.

 

“I did,” he says catching her hand and pressing the heel of her palm to his lips. “Where are you going?” he asks.

 

“For a run, want to come?” she asked. He didn’t have classes until later she knew. He only had them in the afternoons on Mondays, a trick he and Robb had learned after they’d both foolishly had a three-hour lecture first thing Monday mornings as freshmen.

 

“You’re going for a run?” he asks her and she can tell he immediately regretted it. She never ran anymore, hadn’t in months. Her body felt weak to her now and she craved the feel of her sinewy muscles straining as her feet hit the pavement in that steady beat.

 

“I think it’s about high time I start taking care of myself, don’t you?” she asks him, because he might be afraid to hurt her feelings but she wasn’t. She was tired of egg shells and numbness. She was tired of not feeling like herself, of mourning two deaths when she could just be mourning one.

 

“Just let me get changed,” he says, planting a kiss to her cheek, a spring in his step as he went to his room.

 

She went into her bathroom and brushed her teeth and then pulled on a warm thermal long sleeve shirt and her sneakers. She went to the kitchen to put food down for Ser Pounce, the tabby threading through her legs, happy to trip her if it meant getting her affection.

 

She went into the living room to find Ghost and Grey Wind in the middle of the room. They were equidistant between her room and Jon’s, their backs to one another. Such loyal beasts.

 

“Who wants to go for a run?” she asked them, as though she were asking a person that might understand her. Both of their heads perked, “Anyone?” she asked, her voice raising an octave, “Anyone here want to go for a run?” she asked and now their tails were thumping on the floor, jumping up as she grabbed their leashes from the hall closet.

 

Jon came out, dressed in running clothes of his own, and tossed a sweatshirt at her. She tugged it on, and it went about halfway down her thighs. She grabbed Grey Wind’s leash as Jon grabbed Ghost and they headed down.

 

It was frigid outside, but the icy air felt good on her face.

 

“This way, I’ll take you our normal route,” Jon said. “I’ll even go slow so you can keep up,” he said with a glint in his eye.

 

“You _wish_ , Snow,” she said, feeling younger than she had in months as they start running.

 

Grey Wind had always been her best running companion, and in truth she didn’t even need a leash for him, he always kept pace with her, never zigzagged like she’d seen some dogs do. As they finished their first mile, Ella felt the muscles in her body responding, urging her forward. Grey Wind noticed and they increased their speed, until Jon and Ghost weren’t next to them anymore.

 

“What’s the matter, Jon? Can’t keep up?” she called.

 

“Just enjoying the view!” he responded and her giggle rang out behind her.

 

***

 

He’d caught up to her eventually, racing her all through town, Ghost and Grey Wind happier than they’d been in months.

 

He tugged her sleeve when they got to his destination, “We’re here…”

 

“Did you get a brain freeze?” she teases, “We’ve got to be a mile from home at least…”

 

_Home, our home. Mine and yours and theirs, even that damn cat’s._

“Thanks genius,” he says, because he can’t resist her, the old Ella that he can see coming back to him slowly but surely. “I was _going_ to buy you a French vanilla latte but if you’re so eager to go home…”

 

They were outside his favorite coffee shop, The Free Folk, and Ella’s face lit up, and then fell, “What about _the puppies_ ,” she whispered, as though not to hurt their feelings.

 

“ _They’re welcome_ ,” he stage-whispers back, grabbing the door and holding it open for her.

 

She looks at him, stepping hesitantly inside as though someone might yell at her. He follows her in, putting a hand on the small of her back and urging her forward. Ghost tugs at the leash, eager go to the dog bed in the corner of the room. He lets him go and takes Grey Wind’s leash off too, taking it from Ella.

 

They head over to the barista and Ella turns to him, “So are you going to get a triple mocha latte with extra whipped cream?”

 

“Not _nearly_ sweet enough,” he protests, “I’d better get a single shot of espresso with twelve sugars and a dollop of heavy cream for good measure.”

 

She’d always teased him for his boring taste in coffee. He liked it black, so _sue him._ He in turn always dramatically gagged when she’d make him take a sip of one of her lattes. He liked that no matter what was happening, no matter how much had changed, they still had _this._

The tattooed barista was about to ask what they _actually_ wanted, because apparently she didn’t find them as charming as Jon did but then a mountain of a man with a big ginger beard shoos her away.

 

“The usual, Lord Crow?” Tormund asks him.

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Jon nodded. Ella looked up at him expectantly, raising her eyebrow. “And the pest to my right will have a large French vanilla latte with skim milk.”

 

Tormund smirked at him, as did Ella.

 

“I’ve never met a pest quite like you,” Tormund says to her, “Not even in my sweetest dreams.”

 

Ella moves slightly closer to him, and he knows what she’s thinking. _You’re too beautiful for your own good._

“That’s because I’m the stuff of nightmares,” she deadpans and Tormund let’s out a loud guffaw.

 

“ _Good_ ,” he says, “I like those better.”

 

They grab their coffees and head over to a couch near the window. How many times had they sat like this at one coffee shop or another? They had been at a coffee shop when she’d broken down crying because she loved Robb and wasn’t sure what to do about it. They’d been at a coffee shop when he told her that Ygritte had dumped him. They’d been at one when he helped her study for her calculus test, and when she’d explained the theory of nihilism telling him that he and Nietzsche would have had a bromance for the ages. But even when he’d held her as she cried, assuring her that Robb loved her too, or when she’d taken him in her slender arms telling him that Ygritte was an utter fool, it hadn’t been like this.

 

“Just _taste_ it,” she said, waving her coffee cup under his nose.

 

“You try mine,” he said.

 

“I’d sooner drink liquid asphalt. Probably a bit sweeter.”

 

“You are _such_ a pest.”

 

She looked up at him with those jade green eyes. That was of course, until they closed and she leaned up and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, almost innocent, but it affected him all the same. She would always affect him. She moved away and he leaned to capture her lips once more and he felt her smile against him.

 

When they broke away she said, as though having long considered it, “I suppose black coffee isn’t _quite_ so bad.”

 

He had never kissed her in public before. I mean, there had been a few times when he dragged her out of one club or another and she or he had grabbed the other, devouring each other as they waited for a taxi. But that was different. It was anonymous and so fueled by pain and passion that he had been blind to it.

 

This was different though. They were sober and by all accounts happy, as happy as they could be anyway.

 

“Hmm… I may be developing an affinity for lattes,” he said, because he had never thought he was going to get this. Get _her_ in any way. “Give me another taste…” he said and captured her giggle in his mouth.

 

***

 

It was Thursday night and Jon was out with his friends. He’d invited her to go with them and she was regretting saying no now. She had realized, after seeing Arya that he had given up everything for her. Spending most nights in with her, not to mention the months before. She didn’t want to be selfish.

 

But she sat in the apartment reading her book and felt much older than eighteen. She wasn’t in school at the moment, she’d taken a leave of absence after Robb so she really had nothing she had to be doing. It was an odd feeling for her, now that she was regaining some of her old self. The old Ella had always been busy.

 

She found herself wanting to go into the closet, grab one of the few dresses she’d brought with her and find the nearest club. She didn’t even want whiskey, just writhing bodies and too loud music, her body moving until she could forget who and what she was. But she couldn’t do that. If Jon came home and found her gone he would lose his mind, and she was determined to never cause him pain or worry again.

 

So, despite herself, despite not wanting to be selfish. She texted him.

 

_Ella: Ghost and Grey Wind are judging me._

She waited a second and saw the typing bubbles appear, as though he’d been waiting for her to text him.

 

_Jon: So am I. Come meet us here._

Ella bit her lip. She liked that he was teasing her again, that he wasn’t handling her with kid gloves as much.

 

_Ella: Where is here and who is us?_

More bubbles.

 

_Jon: The Crow. Tormund, Sam, Gilly, and me._

She hadn’t seen Sam and Gilly for months. They had been some of her closest friends before everything and she found an eagerness in her body once again.

 

_Ella: I’ll be there in twenty._

_Jon: Take a taxi._

_Ella: It’s seven blocks._

_Jon: Take a taxi, unless you want me to come get you._

_Ella: Fine, but the driver is going to judge me now too._

***

 

“Why do you keep staring at your phone?” Gilly asked him.

 

“Something tells me he’s waiting to hear from a certain pest,” Tormund says.

 

He scowls at him. It was a mistake to kiss her in the coffee shop. Jon had made him promise not to say anything to Sam and Gilly. They had been friends with Robb too, and while Jon was ready to defend them to anyone, he wasn’t sure how she would feel about them knowing.

 

He _had_ been waiting to hear from her all night. He didn’t like being this dependent on her. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but he didn’t like it when she wasn’t around. He didn’t breathe properly.

 

Jon ignored him and answered Gilly.

 

“Ella’s coming,” he said, by way of explanation. Gilly’s face lit up.

 

“That’s so good! Sam did you hear that?” she asked, turning to her boyfriend.

 

“I heard it,” Sam said, smiling at her reassuringly though he gave Jon a long look.

 

She had told him she’d be twenty minutes, and it was nearing that. He tried not to keep looking at his phone but it was difficult.

 

It was Tormund who saw her first, “Good god she’s stunning, isn’t she?”

 

“We know,” Jon, Sam and Gilly muttered.

 

“Ella!” Gilly said excitedly, standing up and crossing the bar to her. Jon turned then and saw Ella in her navy blue pea coat and jeans, a chunky white turtleneck sweater with her hair up in a ponytail showing off her perfect, make-up free face.

 

Ella hugged her, the two girls swaying back and forth and Jon stood up as they came back to the table.

 

“Whiskey?” he asked her by way of greeting.

 

“Gin and tonic,” she said with a special smile. It was her old order.

 

“I’ll get it,” he said and turned to the rest of the table, “Anyone else need?”

 

“Me,” Sam, Tormund and Gilly all said. “I’ll help you,” Sam said as Gilly pulled Ella into the booth.

 

Jon nodded and they went over to the bar. The Crow never carded but he knew that with Ella’s innocent young face, even the can’t-be-bothered bartender would take pause. They ordered and waited for the drinks.

 

“So how is it? Living with her?” Sam asked.

 

_Sometimes it’s difficult, like when she takes her clothes off in front of me and I have to just sit there. Sometimes it’s painful, like when an old commercial Robb loved comes on and she starts crying. Sometimes it’s perfect, like when I wake up with her in my arms._

“It’s good, you know… we uh, take care of each other,” Jon says.

 

“Right,” Sam says.

 

“Look if you have something to say, just say it,” he says because he can’t stand the way Sam is looking at him. Like he was a traitor. Like he was in over his head. He _knew_ all of that. But how could he be a traitor when his allegiance was to her and her alone now? Was it better to serve a ghost than flesh and blood? Would Robb have been happier with her in the arms of another? Who else would love her the way that he would? Who else would keep her safe?

 

“I love Ella, you know that. She’s good and kind and she has been through the worst kind of hell. I just want you to be careful.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because if he was still alive, none of this would be happening. How long are you going to be okay with that for?”

 

A rage fought to tear apart Jon’s chest. It was the one thought he never allowed himself. That if Robb was still alive, she never would have entertained the idea of them at all. That for all she cared for him, all she loved him even, she would have always loved Robb more.

 

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked, “I love the girl.”

 

It was the first time he’d ever said that out loud. Sam sighed, because he knew. There was nothing to be done.

 

***

 

In the end, she was glad she’d come out.

 

It was good to catch up with Gilly and Sam, and she liked Tormund’s harsh sense of humor. It reminded her of a Sylvia Plath quote she always loved, _Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording-all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery._ She had always felt that quote in her very bones, the great injustice of her sex.

 

She had sat quietly, for the most part, listening to the whirl of chatter around them. Every so often she’d look across the table to Jon. She found it odd not to be sitting next to him. He never looked back at her, even though she felt his eyes on her face more than once.

 

At the end of the night they parted with promises to see Gilly and Sam soon, and Tormund saying she was more than welcome at The Free Folk whether Jon was in tow or not.

 

She and Jon set forth in silence in the cold night air. She wanted to hold his hand. She wanted his arm around her. She wanted to kiss him underneath the street lights, his breath warming her against the cold. She wanted him.

 

“If you’re angry blink once, if you’re sad blink twice,” she finally said, because she couldn’t stand his silence. Not this kind of silence, the heavy kind.

 

He sighed and looked at her, “I’m fine, Doe.”

 

“Then kiss me,” she said, and hated how flimsy her voice sounded. How full of need.

 

“Let’s just get home, okay?” he said. _Oh. He’s never denied me that._

“What did I do?” she asked him quietly.

 

“You didn’t do anything, alright? I’m just being a grouch. You should be used to it by now,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lie to me. _We_ _don’t do that to each other._ ”

 

“What do you want me to say?”

 

“I want you to tell me what I did. Tell me why you wouldn’t look at me all night. Tell me why you aren’t touching me right now. Tell me why you won’t kiss me even though I feel like my heart will explode if you don’t.”

 

“ _Ella_ ” he whines.

 

“What?”

 

“I just think we should… maybe we should just cool it for a little while… you know, before things get out of hand.”

 

“ _Get out of hand_? Things got out of hand four months ago!”

 

“Aye, I know it! And what if it hadn’t happened, none of it? What if he was still here, and he’d given you that ring? Would you have hesitated? Would you have given me a second thought before you committed yourself to him for the rest of your _life_?”

 

“I didn’t know then! I didn’t know… I I’m sorry okay… I just…”

 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

 

“Stop saying that! It’s all my fault. All of it. I kissed you, remember?”

 

“I could lose every part of myself. I could lose every memory. Every feeling. I could lose all sense and reason and I would still never forget that.”

 

“Jon…”

 

“Let’s go Ella.”

 

“But I love you.”

 

“I know. And you’ll always love him better.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

He lay awake all night. He was in his own bed, but it didn’t feel like it anymore. His bed was her bed now. He missed her fluffy duvet and the way her pillows smelled like jasmine. He missed the animals piled on them like a pack of wolves and the way they gravitated towards each other at night, until they shared limbs.

 

He felt like a fool. He had hurt her. Badly. Everything he’d said had been true, all of it, but it wasn’t her truth. He projected years of jealousy, of feeling inadequate, of feeling a possessiveness in his bones that he didn’t understand onto her. She was guilty of the great crime of loving two people, that was to be sure, but who can control who they love or how long it takes them to realize it?

 

She had always loved him. He knew that. She had always belonged to him, even when she was Robb’s she was his too. She wasn’t his lover, she wasn’t unfaithful even in her heart, but she belonged to him nevertheless. And now, he had punished her for that fidelity. She had done the right thing, loved him in a way that was safe for all of them, given him almost everything he’d ever wanted. She had been good and kind, all of the softness in his world. She had valued him and depended on him. She had given him purpose and faith. And he had spat on all of it, because he was greedy. Because he wanted all of her and always had.

 

The animals had abandoned him, even Ghost. They had all gone to her side at once, followed her into her bedroom. He couldn’t blame them, he was proud of them, thankful for them. She deserved them and he didn’t.

 

“I was thinking of you, you know…” she said quietly. He hadn’t even heard his door open.

 

“I’ve been thinking of you too,” he said honestly.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “When you read to me the other night. _If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be._ You stopped reading because you thought I’d be thinking of Robb, but I wasn’t. Everything has perished and here I am, being. Because of you. Who else would have come looking for me night after night? Who else would have stopped me from degrading my body with man after man? Who else would have been able to bring me back to life?” she asked him, crawling on the bed now, crawling on top of him. His arms went around her without a thought as she pressed kisses to his chest. “You’re my religion, you’re my faith, you’re my heart. You’re my whole heart Jon Snow,” she said and now she was crying, fighting him, pleading with him, “ _And if all else remained and he were annihilated the universe would turn a mighty stranger._ ”

 

 _“Ella”_ he groaned, into her hair. She was right, he had thought she was thinking of Robb. He remembered what she had been like a month ago, a ghost of herself. A haunting teasing image of the girl he once knew. But this, this was something else entirely. The love of his life, the only girl he’d ever love telling him everything he felt in his own heart.

 

He had never been religious, he’d never seen the point of it. He had himself, and Robb and her, he had the Starks. Everything he needed. When Robb died he hadn’t turned to scripture, hadn’t railed against God. It wasn’t God who had done it. It was Joffrey. It was easier that way. Joffrey could die for what he did, God could not.

 

But what was the love he had for Ella if not a religion? She was his morality, his peace, his absolution.

 

“Just love me back. It’s so simple. Just love me back, please. I’ll never give you a reason to doubt me. There will never be anyone else for me now. If you leave me, I’ll be alone forever. There is only you, only you.” she cried.

 

He pulled her face up to him, rolling so he was on top of her, “I do love you. I’ve always loved you and I’m always going to love you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

He kissed her then, because he had to. It was a physical need to attach himself to her. She cried against his lips and he swallowed all of it. Her pain and her need.

 

He hadn’t slept with her since that day in the kitchen, since it had all come out. Like that day, he was aroused. And like that day, there was pain, so much pain. But that was not what did it. It was her, only her.

 

He pulled her tank top off and pressed kisses to her collarbone and chest, his hands wandering down the rickety trail of her spine. She pulled his shirt off as well and her mouth was everywhere, kissing and nipping and murmuring against him. He yanked her face back to him, greedy, needing to consume her and she offered herself up as a willing sacrifice.

 

His hands trailed down her, pulling down the sweatpants she was wearing, they were his, tied tightly to keep them on her. He loved that she had still dressed herself in his clothing even when he had hurt her, that she had still covered herself in him. But now he didn’t want her covered at all. Her panties followed next and he tossed them clear across the room, he had no need for them.

 

She was breathtaking. Her body was perfect, sinewy and smooth, girlish and womanly all at once. He leaned down and kissed her breasts, delighting in the way her nipples peaked in his mouth.

 

“ _Jon_ ” she breathed.

 

He kissed his way down her body, determined to hear his name come from her lips like that again. He parted her legs, his hands gripping her thighs and looked up at her. She was looking down at him and she looked so delightfully rumpled that he pressed a kiss right below her belly button, determined to rumple her more still. Her hips rose when she did and he smiled against her skin.

 

He wanted to tease her, but she was too tempting so he kissed his way down her until he could press a kiss to her sweet, wet cunt. She let out a sigh and he let his tongue swirl over her. He remembered the first time he’d ever tasted her. He had found her in the middle of some dingy club. She wasn’t even drunk, just wild. Two men were dancing against her and he’d made short work of them, dragging her through the club. They’d had words, and he had pushed her into the disgusting bathroom, hitching her up on the sink and attacking her with his lips. It had been entirely irrational and it had haunted him ever sense. The taste of her on his lips, and the way she was so soft when she came. For all her strength and numbness, she could never hide her nature, not when he manipulated her body.

 

“Oh Ella,” he said against her, “My girl is so fucking sweet,” he almost whimpered. He could push his fingers inside of her, but he was determined, he was going to get her off with just his tongue and lips. He wasn’t going to invade her body until she had come well and hard.

 

“ _Jon_ ” she sighed again, and her hips were rising to meet him. It brought out the animal in him and soon there was only one thing he wanted. He rolled them over so that she straddled his face.

 

“Jon!” she cried, looking down at him in confusion.

 

“Show me, Ella, show me what you like. Make me forget everything except your sweet cunt,” he says to her. It is wrong and filthy and he should never say it to a girl like her but he didn’t care.

 

She was shy now though, when she hadn’t been in months. More vulnerable now that this wasn’t an escape. He took her by the hips and brought her against him. She let out a surprised moan, her head falling back. He licked her slowly, as though he had all the time in the world, and he did. He would spend every second of his life getting her off if he could.

 

Slowly, she starts to ride him, and he laps her up, moaning against her because this was the sexiest thing he could imagine. Her movements become more erratic, her thighs quivering around his cheek and he knows he has her. He can’t help it, he so badly wanted her to be in control but he takes her by the hips anyway and moves her against him.

 

“ _Jonnnn”_ she cries softly and he feels her whole body constrict.

 

When it’s over she falls on the bed, her head in her hands.

 

“Ella?” he asks her, picking up one of her hands so he can look at her.

 

“Can that be like a weekly thing?” she asks him with a small smile.

 

“No. Daily, hourly maybe…” he says and pulls her giggling to him. She leans in and kisses him and _moans_ against his lips.

 

She hooks a leg over his, pulling his body closer to hers. He had never made love like this, on his side, but he pulls her thigh over him more and enters her slowly. He lets out a gasping breath, because nothing compared to being inside of her. Especially like this. This is the way their first time should have been, with their limbs intermingled and their lips on one another’s.

 

“This feels…” Ella starts.

 

“Different,” he finishes for her and she nods, her thumb on his lips as her fingers stroke his cheek.

 

Even in the darkness he can see the flush on her cheeks and she is so beautiful that he has to physically restrain himself from telling her so by kissing her lips. He couldn’t wait for the day that he could tell her so, when he could tell her that she was the loveliest sight he’d ever seen without her flinching.

 

He rocks into her and she feels like home and their breaths are getting heavier and then she says it: _“Oh how I love you, Jon Snow.”_

He comes immediately, having the good sense at least to roll her against him so that she follows close behind. They fall asleep in each other’s arms and wake, unmoved.


	5. Chapter 5

Ella sat in the warm back room of The Free Folk with Ghost and Grey Wind at her feet. Jon had asked that she meet him there in between classes and she had gotten here early, as the walk with the dogs hadn't taken quite as long as she expected. 

 

The Free Folk was on the border of Wintertown University's campus, so all around the hipster watering hole students with textbooks and others wearing sunglasses despite the snowy day sat drinking coffee, studying, and catching up with friends. Ella felt envious, and took a moment to rejoice in that. 

 

She had always loved school. Jon and Robb used to tease her (despite their own perfect grades) but she had never cared. She favored English and History (despite not having a natural proclivity for numbers she had secured an A- in Calculus as well thanks to Jon's tutoring) and had a knack for languages. On his birthday one year, Robb asked that she speak to him exclusively in French and she had whispered inappropriate things in his ear all day just to toy with him.

 

She had been weeks away from moving into her freshman dorm at Wintertown (Jon and Robb had invited her to live with them but she’d insisted she have a _normal college experience_ which didn’t involve living with two watch dogs. Not to mention Grey Wind and Ghost.) when Robb had died. She had her father call the dean immediately. In those first months she hadn’t missed anything, except Robb, and herself, but it was now nearing Christmas and she looked on with interest. Perhaps she’d study Art History, she used to drag Robb to museums and exhibitions all the time, her Uncle Tyrion being one of the preeminent art dealers in the country or she could study politics. It would make her grandfather happy, not that she cared much about that. Regardless of _what_ she learned, she just knew she wanted to learn something new.

 

“Hey pretty girl,” a voice brought her out of thoughts. Ghost and Grey Wind were up in a moment. She didn’t like his voice, or the way he was looking at her, or that he’d called her pretty but she decided there was no need to be rude. _You can’t live your whole life as if someone is about to attack._

“Hi,” she said instead.

 

“Can I join you?” he asked her.

 

“Oh you know what, I’m actually waiting for someone, but thank you,” she said as politely as she could. Ghost and Grey Wind were not taking her example and had walked in front of her, planting themselves and puffing out their chests.

 

“Cute dogs,” he said and foolishly and put his hand out for Ghost to sniff. It was only Ella’s fingers looped through Ghost’s collar that allowed the stranger to keep his hand. It wasn’t so much that she was restraining him, he was too strong for that, but he noted her intentions and satisfied himself with a low growl.

 

“Yes they’re very loyal,” she said with an edge to her voice. This boy was either very arrogant or very stupid, and she figured it was a little bit of both.

 

“Cool. So you’re busy right now, but can I get your number?” he asked.

 

“She’s said it. Our dogs have said it. Now I’ll say it: _fuck off_ ,” a growl came from behind the boy. Ella had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

 

“Dude I was just… she’s just…” the guy said, clearly more intimidated by Jon than he was the hounds.

 

Jon just stared at him until he walked away.

 

“Jonathan Snow!” she said in reproach. He had the grace to look sheepish as he set his coffee down on the table and sat on the couch next to her.

 

“He was an asshat,” he says by way of explanation.

 

He takes off his snowy coat and she takes his hands in hers and blows hot air on them, they were practically icicles. She looks up at him and he is smiling at her with such adoration that it fills her entire body with warmth.

 

“ _Our_ dogs?” Ella asked him with a small smile.

 

“Ours,” he repeated, kissing her cheek.

 

He was adamant that everything was theirs. Even the apartment, which he owned. When she’d shyly suggested _making a few tweaks_ he had smiled and told her _“Everything in here except you and the animals can go for all I care. Make this the home you want to live in and I will never want to leave.”_ He may have regretted that slightly when she’d completely redecorated the living room, but he had simply smiled and told her he liked it better this way.

 

“Jon?” she said.

 

“Yeah Doe?” he asked. She noted that she didn’t feel the pain she usually felt when he called her that. It made her more sure of her decision than ever.

 

“I’m going to go back to school in the New Year…” she said and took a casual sip of her latte as though she’d told him she was thinking of catching a movie.

 

Jon Snow, her stoic (except with her), grumbly (except with her), gruff (okay sometimes in _bed_ with her) boyfriend let out an exuberant “Whoop!” and pulled her face to him, kissing her lips and then her cheeks and her nose until she was a giggling mess when Ghost and Grey Wind stood up to join in.

 

“Wait,” he said, when Grey Wind was sitting in Ella’s lap, “You’re not… well do you still…” he let out a deep breath, “Are you going to move into a dorm? I know that before you…”

 

“No.” she cut him off, “Unless you and the handsomest men in the world want me to that is,” she said rubbing her face against Grey Wind making him smacked his tail on the couch.

 

“We don’t want you going anywhere. Oh my lovely girl you have no idea how happy this makes me,” he says stroking her cheek.

 

“Happy enough to get me another latte?” she asks him with a smile.

 

“I’ll even have Tormund put a heart in the foam, apparently he has a talent for it.”

 

***

 

He had, momentarily, forgotten how Type A the old Ella was. Though she could be wild (like, convince an entire party to go naked snowshoeing wild) she was _deeply_ into organization and preparation. So in the weeks leading up to Christmas the apartment became a home of school supplies (color coordinated, of course) and course catalogs. He found lists of extracurricular activities being used as bookmarks in _everything_ and he came home to find she had nearly purchased him an entire new wardrobe of school themed clothing.

 

He loved his university. He was well into his Junior year and played for the rugby team, had great professors and all that, but he wasn’t much of a _ra-ra_ school spirit kind of guy. Though when he’d come across Ella asleep on the couch wearing his Winterfell University t shirt and nothing else, he thought that perhaps it wasn’t _so_ bad.

 

“Okay so Professor Varys is ?” Ella asked as she put some more Brussel sprouts in their shopping cart.

 

“Tough, but fair. He speaks in riddles sometimes which can be annoying, but he knows absolutely _everything_. You should definitely take a class with him, but maybe next semester,” he said.

 

Professor Varys was one of the preeminent political scholars in the country and had nearly killed Jon his sophomore year. Ella was ten times smarter than him though, so he figured she could handle him as a second semester sophomore (though she had of course already toyed with the idea of taking classes during the summer so she wouldn’t graduate late).

 

“Hmm, okay. Do we want squash?” she asked him, making him smile. Over the past weeks he had been saying _we, us, ours_ and he was rubbing off on her.

 

“I think it’s a distinct possibility that we do,” he said thoughtfully and she rolled her eyes at him and went to grab a couple.

 

They made it to the dairy aisle and he grabbed a bottle of whipped cream. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he said, “I know what this will taste amazing on…”

 

“Jon that’s _disgusting_ ,” she said and he immediately regretted it. He had mostly been teasing her anyway. But then she smiles and says playfully, “I can make _way_ better whipped cream than that.”

 

It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a grocery store, or that they had just come from the gym. She was a goddess. Persephone tempting Hades all over again. He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply and she surrendered to him immediately, tasting his lips as though they were pomegranate seeds.

 

 _“Ella?!”_ a deep voice said. He felt her go rigid in his arms and he rubbed his fingers against her spine in reassurance.

 

“Gendry,” she breathed. Her half-brother who she’d always loved. Who was dating Arya and like them, was an honorary Stark.

 

“I _knew_ it,” he said.

 

“Gendry, wait…” she said, pulling out of Jon’s arms and following after him. She pulled on his arm and he whirled around so quickly that Jon had to physically restrain himself. Gendry loved Ella, he’d never hurt her.

 

“I _saw_ it at the Stark’s last weekend,” he says, referencing the family dinner they’d all been at. “Arya told me I was _crazy,_ that you two were like _family,_ that you _took care of each other_.”

 

“We are…” Ella said weakly, “We do…”

 

“I wonder what Robb Stark would have to say if he could see his little sister defending his _best friend_ and _his girl_.” Gendry said and the look of disgust in his eyes made Jon’s stomach turn.

 

“Gendry, wait. It’s… you don’t understand… we…” Ella started.

 

“How long, Ella?” he asked her. Ella’s silence told him everything he needed to know. He turned to Jon then, “How _long_ was Robb in the ground before you took what you wanted? _What you’ve always wanted?_ ”

 

Jon was about to lunge but the force of Ella’s slap knocked the wind out of him, though it was not him who got the blow.

“How _dare_ you? I understand that this is upsetting for you. You loved Robb. Well so did _we_. More than anyone. _I died the day we buried him_. Did you forget that it was _Jon_ who kept me safe? _Jon_ who fought for me and took care of me and loved me. _He brought me back to life and I will not apologize for surviving._ I loved Robb Stark more than my own life and that love nearly killed me. What measure of time would be sufficient for you? How long is the appropriate amount of time to mourn the boy who died avenging you? I could be alone for a _lifetime_ and never be worthy of another chance of happiness, but I choose _life_ and I choose _him_ and by some miracle he chose me too.”

 

Gendry was speechless. In fairness, how could he not be? Ella left the cart where it stood and walked away without giving either of them a second glance.

 

“Your sister loves you and so do I, but if you _ever_ speak to her like that again you will regret it,” Jon says.

 

Gendry looks at him and says simply, “I already do.”

 

***

 

She didn’t get far. She knew he wouldn’t be far behind but when he caught up to her he was out of breath which meant he had _really_ run to catch her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says as soon as he gets to her. “Jon I’m so sorry. I – we could have made something up, we could have… I just,” she says and grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, “After everything, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I can’t deny what you are to me, it’s the truest thing about me. But I’m sorry…it was selfish and I didn’t think, I didn’t-“

 

“Marry me,” he said simply.

 

“ _What?_ ” she asked him. Had he had a nervous breakdown? Did it happen that quickly? She would have to take that intro to psych class now.

 

“Ella, I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I have watched you grow into this indescribable person. You drive me crazy and you are the only thing I need to keep me sane. You’re my life, you’re my whole entire life and I love you so much, my beautiful girl. Just…marry me.”

 

It was the first time in six months that someone had called her beautiful and she had liked the way it sounded. That in and of itself told her everything she needed to know.

 

“When?”


	6. Chapter 6

“When?,” Ned asked.

 

“Ned that’s none of our business,” Cat said to him softly, taking his hand in hers.

 

“Like hell it’s not! I have a right to know what my kids are up to,” he argued.

 

*

 

_Eleven months earlier…_

 

_“Jon, where’s Ella?,” Ned asked, looking around the people amassed in his and Robb’s apartment._

 

_Ned had wanted to have the luncheon at their house, but Catelyn was nearly catatonic and in no state to be the hostess. Her son had just died though, so she could be forgiven that. Forgiven anything, really._

 

_“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her since we got back from the…,” he started but couldn’t finish that sentence. How were you supposed to talk about burying your best friend, your brother? How were you supposed to say cemetary to a father whose son now rested there? “I haven’t seen her.”_

 

_“Go find her, eh? I don’t want her to be alone,” he said, and before Jon could take off he said, “And I don’t just mean today, son. You know she’s yours to take care of now. Cat and I will help, of course we will, we’ll take care of that girl until our last breath but she won’t come to us the way she’ll come to you. She needs you… and you need her.”_

 

_Jon nodded. He knew all of that. He’d hardly left Ella’s side since it happened. Her normally strict mother hadn’t even fought him when he’d carried Ella up to her room after the hospital. Hadn’t come to kick him out, even though he sat up all night next to her bed. He couldn’t even pretend he was doing it for her. He couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight._

 

_He walked through, nodding silently to this person and that, pausing only to press a kiss to Arya’s head where she sat on the couch with Rickon, her normally wild little brother tamed by grief._

 

_He checked through all the rooms, but didn’t see Ella. He didn’t see Grey Wind or Ghost either and he knew that the three of them would be together. He checked the bathroom, but found only Roslin Frey dabbing at her eyes. He checked his room, and his stomach sank when he realised she wasn’t there. He knew she wouldn’t be. Knew there was only one place she could be. The only place he hadn’t gone since it happened._

 

_He didn’t bother to knock, pushing the door to Robb’s room open. Grey Wind and Ghost picked up their heads, prepared and ready to defend her, and put them back down when they saw who it was, both letting out pained sighs as they turned back to look at her._

 

_She was sitting in the oversized upholstered arm chair. How many times had he seen her in that very arm chair? How many times had he come home to find her sitting there, novel in hand, Robb at his desk working? How many times had he plopped himself on the bed, inserting himself into whatever it was she and Robb were talking about? She had never looked like this though._

 

_She wore a plain long sleeved black dress, her golden hair pulled off her face, no make-up. She probably thought it all would make her blend in, but nothing could. Nothing could hide beauty like hers, not even grief._

 

_He closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it._

 

_“Doe -,” he started._

 

_“Don’t call me that,” she pleaded._

 

_He had been the first one to use the nickname, but he and Robb had been calling her that for so long that she probably didn’t remember. She had probably been only six at the time, and he knew that her childhood memories blended together in a haze of happiness and sunshine. Just like his._

 

_She wasn’t a child anymore though. Hadn’t been ever since her brother had smacked her and kicked her all while undoing his pants, desperate to have her. And any vestiges that had survived that had been obliterated when the crack of the gun sounded._

 

_She had always been too pretty for her own good, that much was clear. Friends of her fathers had always stared a little too long, the dumber boys at school had tried with her even though they knew she was spoken for. Men on the street cat called her, followed her. It had been her curse, and his, and Robb’s._

 

_What chance was there for you when everyone coveted the girl you loved?_

 

_“Ella,” he started again, approaching her and was surprised when Grey Wind rose and stood in front of her. The dog had been as much hers as he was Robb’s and Jon knew that if he was rising it was because she was scared. “Why…why can’t I come close to you?”_

 

_“It’s too dangerous,” she said, but pressed her hand on Grey Wind’s head and he laid down on the floor, keeping his eyes on Jon._

 

_“Dangerous?,” he asked, crossing to her because if Grey Wind wanted to take a chomp out of him he was willing to take it, “Sweetheart, don’t say that. You’re the only thing that feels safe now.”_

 

_She stood up and pushed away from him, so strong, even now._

 

_“How can you say that?,” she asked, turning around and almost growling at him. She was scarier than Grey Wind, he’d give her that._

 

_Because I love you, he thought, but didn’t say._

 

_“Because you’re you, and I’m me,” he said instead. “We belong to each other.”_

 

_She couldn’t deny it. He saw that she wanted to, saw the wheels turning in her mind, but Ella had always been a terrible liar and she never lied to him._

 

_“We belonged to him too,” she said, her voice quivering. “He belonged to us,” her hands were shaking and tears were pooling in her eyes, “And now he’s go-one.”_

 

_Her voice finally broke on the last word and she let out a silent sob. In his twenty years on earth he had never seen such profound sadness as he saw in that silent sob and it tore him in two. It surprised him that anything could still reach him here, in his grief, but that sob did. She did. Of course she did._

 

_“Ella, sweetheart,” he said and closed the distance between them again. He pulled her to him, “Oh my love, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll take care of you. You’ll see. I’m going to protective you.”_

 

_“I’m dead already,” she said, and there was an iciness in her voice that reminded him of her mother._

 

_He wrenched her face up, holding her cheeks in his hands, “No you aren’t,” he growled, “Don’t ever say that, Ella. Never say that to me again. You’re alive. You’re alive, do you hear me? You are flesh and bone and you are my whole world - I do not accept it, is that clear? YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE ME.”_

 

_He didn’t know what kissing was supposed to feel like until her lips touched his. He could feel the tears on her cheeks, taste the salt on his tongue, but it didn’t matter. Her lips were soft and persistent against his and he kissed her back hungrily, pulling her to him now._

 

_“Ella? Wait?,” he said, though it came out like a question, one she had no trouble answering._

 

_“No,” she said, shaking her head. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him against, weaving her fingers into his hair and holding him against her. She kissed him slowly, like she was trying to coax a small child out of their hiding place, and he deepened it slowly, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her to him._

 

_“Ella,” he whimpered when they broke apart to catch their breaths._

 

_“You say I’m alive, Jon,” she said, “Kiss me until I feel like it.”_

 

_He had still hesitated, and then she pulled out her trump card._

 

_“I need you, please.”_

 

*

 

PRESENT DAY

 

“It’s been going on a while, Dad,” Ella said, her voice shaky. “I tried… but every time I tried to lose myself he was right there, reminding me. Making me choose life. Looking after me like he’d made someone a promise. I know how difficult this must be, but Jon saved my life, not just that night, but every night since. He’s the only reason I’m standing here in front of you right now. I need him. I’ve always needed him. But it isn’t just that…I love him, I love him so much and I know that must seem like an insult to Robb but -“

 

“It isn’t,” Ned said, shaking his head. “My son loved you since the moment he first laid eyes on you. I always knew you’d be my daughter, knew he would never find someone that would turn his eyes away from you. But I didn’t love you for his sake. You’re _mine_ , do you hear me, child? I couldn’t love you more if you were my own flesh and blood, and that goes the same for you, Jon.Robb loved you two more than he loved anyone. He’d want you to choose life, to choose each other. And so do I.”

 

“So do _we_ ,” Catelyn said.

 

He knew it was easier for her. She’d known for months, though she’d never say it explicitly, he knew. She had always been so perceptive, and he hadn’t expected that she wouldn’t pick up on the intimacy he and Ella had now.

 

“And you’ll come?,” Ella asked hopefully, “It will be small but…it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there.”

 

“Of course, we’ll be there sweetheart,” Ned said, a crinkle in his eye, “Who’d give you away if I wasn’t there?”

 

“Gendry will be so annoyed,” she said with a relieved giggle as she ran into Ned’s waiting arms.

 

Ned’s eyes met his and he nodded. Ned was a man of few words, like him, so Jon knew what that look meant.

 

_She’s yours to take care of now, keep her safe, for me, for him._

 

***

 

“Don’t be silly, you take a shower and I’ll take the puppies out,” she told Jon.

 

“Are you sure? I don’t mind, I know you must be tired,” he said to her and she rolled her eyes.

 

“You are so full of it, I’ll have Grey Wind _and_ Ghost with me. I couldn’t be safer,” she said with a grin.

 

Jon didn’t like it when she went out at night on her own, but she had always loved nighttime in the city, and it felt good to love things again and she didn’t want to lose that.

 

“Yes you could,” he said, though he was grinning too as he pulled her to him, “Right here, Doe, you’ll never be safer than you are right here, in my arms.”

 

“The sooner I go, the sooner I’ll be back in these arms,” she reasoned, though she snaked her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes.

 

“Boy do I love you,” he said, shaking his head as he looked down at her.

 

*

 

_Four and a half years earlier_

 

_“Ella?,” Jon finally asked, “Please tell me what’s wrong, it’s killing me.”_

 

_“No,” she said, trying to focus on her history textbook. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”_

 

_“When have I ever thought anything you said was stupid?,” he asked her smugly._

 

_“Last Tuesday,” she said triumphantly._

 

_“You said hard shell tacos were BETTER than soft shell!,” he said defensively._

 

_“I said they were COMPARABLE, don’t exaggerate!,” she pointed out, annoyed again already._

 

_“I don’t want one of us to say something we are going to regret, so let’s just table this,” he said solemnly._

 

_She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips. Jon always knew how to make her feel better, even though he was a broody sod himself. That was it though, wasn’t it? That someone who never sought happiness for themselves worked so hard for her own?_

 

_“I’m in love with Robb,” she said, because Jon was her best friend, and she never could lie to him. He always put her back together and he’d know how to fix this._

 

_He looked sad and she’d known it. She was stupid, a stupid little girl who didn’t know any better._

 

_“This is a pretty easy problem to fix, Doe,” he said though, to her surprise. “Just tell him.”_

 

_“Tell him!?!,” she cried and Ghost whined at the pitch of her voice._

 

_“He’s in love with you, Ella. Always has been, always will be. He’s just too afraid to tell you because he didn’t want to rush you. He knows you’re going to end up together, we all know. He didn’t want to rush you out of childhood. Plus I told him I’d kick his ass if he did,” he finished with that half smile of his._

 

_“Jonathan Snow!,” she said but she giggled anyway. Robb loved her, he loved her._

 

_“Hey, you’re my girl too. I’m not letting anyone, even Robb Stark, take something from you a moment before you’re ready to give it,” he said to her._

 

_There was fanaticism in his eyes. She’d seen it before, the look of the pilgrim before the relic._

 

_It could spoil a girl rotten to be loved like that._

 

_“Oh I love you, Jon Snow,” she said and hurled herself into his lap, hugging him and pressing kisses to his cheeks. Because she loved him just as fiercely._

 

_He cradled her in his arms, brushing the hair from her face. They’d always been close, always been comfortable in one another’s arms, so it felt perfectly natural and lovely to be held that way._

 

_“Boy do I love you,” he said, and if she wasn’t mistaken the sadness had returned once again._

 

*

 

PRESENT DAY

 

“As I love you,” she said solemnly, “I’m going to love you _forever_ Jon Snow.”

 

She could do it. She knew she could. She could make it up to him. She’d always loved him and he knew it, but she could make it up to him that she hadn’t loved him in the way he wanted.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, resting his head against hers in apology for saying so.

 

He needn’t though, because it made her insides gooey. She wasn’t entirely sure when she had stopped minding it, but she knew it was because of him, because whatever beauty she had was the last thing he loved about her.

 

“Thanks baby,” she said with a grin, kissing him as a bright smile landed on his face in surprise, “You’re pretty beautiful yourself. So beautiful in fact, that I know _exactly_ how I want you tonight.”

 

He kissed her hard and fierce and it lit a fire in her bones, and she moaned against his lips when he reached down and squeezed her ass. Hard.

 

That was something else that had returned, he had stopped treating her like she was going to break at any moment and that more than anything made her feel strong.

 

“Go before I drag you into the shower with me,” Jon said with a chuckle, kissing her once more for good measure.

 

“Come on boys,” Ella said with a grin, making sure to sway her hips just to torture him as Ghost and Grey Wind followed her dutifully to the elevator.

 

It was cold outside, but you could tell Spring was on the way. Ghost and Grey Wind crowded in to her, and she pat their heads briefly, trying to convince them to do their business.

 

A low growl emitted from Grey Winds belly, followed by a baring of Ghost’s teeth. She turned to where they were looking and her heart stopped.

 

“What are you -,” she started, but found she lost the ability to speak.

 

“Still a beauty,” he said, licking his lips as he looked her up and down. “Did you miss me, sister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry it has taken me so long to update this. My most recent fic has gotten me on a Jon/Myrcella kick though so I anticipate to be updating this and It was Always Going to be You soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what's wrong with me, but now I can't stop shipping Jon and Myrcella.


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